


When Shelob Becomes Your Wingman

by StripyTiger



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anya Lives, F/F, Fluffy, icehockey!Lexa, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5644729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripyTiger/pseuds/StripyTiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this Prompt: "This is totally awkward considering that before this the only interactions we’ve ever had have been casual nods to each other in the hallway, but there’s a huge fucking spider in my bath tub and you seem like the friendly neighbor type please help me.” AU<br/>Ft. cavity-inducing fluff with shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feminine Wiles

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, Luminous Moon Goddess.
> 
> Based on this Prompt: "This is totally awkward considering that before this the only interactions we’ve ever had have been casual nods to each other in the hallway, but there’s a huge fucking spider in my bath tub and you seem like the friendly neighbor type please help me.” AU

Clarke Griffin is no coward.

She's faced her rampaging mother head on when Abby found out that she'd changed to an art major halfway through her medical degree. When she found out that her boyfriend of 8 months was cheating on her pretty much the entire time, she kicked his sorry ass to the curb and even found a pretty amazing friendship in the chaos that followed.  She is a grown ass woman, a headstrong, independent-

All of which is pretty much void at the moment because there is a freaking _monstrosity_ of a spider in her bathtub.

Clarke usually isn't afraid of spiders, but when one is doing an impromptu impersonation of Shelob in her bathtub after a physically and emotionally trying day, well, you cannot blame her for the eardrum straining shriek and the following frantic gesticulating.

 

The way Clarke sees it, she has three options. One: leave the spider in the bath and hope it comes (and hopefully leaves) in peace. Two: get rid of the spider herself. Or three: get some poor sucker to do it for her using her feminine wiles.  
The first option is out of the question because Clarke really wants a bath. The second is implausible because Clarke does not own a flamethrower attached to a sturdy two meter long pole. The third...  
The third.  
The nightclub owner.  
Clarke almost cackled in maniacal glee at the thought that followed.  
Sure, it wasn't the best way to ingratiate herself into the good graces of her new neighbor, and it probably would not make the best first impression, but when the person right next to your apartment came home very loudly at an average of 4am, as in the morning, every morning...  
Well.  
Clarke will just play the damsel in distress, bat her eyelashes, and apply her naturally aquired drama queen skills...and the spider issue will be taken care of. And if she gets a little petty revenge out of waking up her night owl of a neighbor, then it's really a bonus, and was not a deciding factor in Clarke's decision.  
Nope. Not at all.

Sweeping her long golden hair strategically to one side and touching up slightly on her makeup, Clarke straightened her tank top and decided that if she could deal with nightly alarms in the form of somebody who obviously had put no thought into the fact that normal people were usually asleep at godawful times in the morning, the annoying neighbor could deal with her sky-themed nail polish. Giving one final glance in the mirror, she began to channel her inner Drama Queen, and swept out the front door.

 ~

And - holy shit.  
Not a dude.  
Definitely not a dude.  
Standing in the newly opened doorway was a goddess. Or at least Clarke's definition of one. Lean, muscled legs tapered up from bare feet and were then obscured by a pair of boxers. Clarke's eyes briefly noted that the mystery woman had good taste in brands before scanning up to a torso which, even clad in a loose floppy shirt, Clarke could see was highly defined and _very_ nice. Gorgeous shoulders were partly exposed by the shirt draped off of them, and Clarke caught sight of a hint of a tattoo before being thoroughly distracted by the woman's face.  
Which.  
Rude.  
Clarke had just gotten home after an admittedly trying day, but had freshened up before heading over to start 'Mission Hapless Neighbor', and she was still pretty sure that this stranger, who looked as if she had just gotten out of bed, managed to look prettier than her. Clarke would be annoyed if she still wasn't transfixed by the face staring back at her.  
Framed by the most gravity-defying bed hair Clarke had ever seen, sleepy green eyes met her gaze directly, set in a finely sculpted face. (Clarke took special notice of her extremely fine jawline).

  
"Can I help you?" Said the woman cooly, as if she was dressed in a tailored business suit and was wearing her finest pearls rather then the battered band t-shirt and a pair of boxers which Clarke was trying desperately not to notice molded the woman's toned thighs to perfection.

  
_Get your game on Griffin!_

  
"Ah, yes actually!" Cheerful, friendly and just a little bit awkward. Nice. "I was wondering if you could help me with a little problem that I'm having at the moment?"

A raise of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and a scrutinizing eye sweep was all that Clarke received. _Why do I always get the really cute ones who always turn out to be total douchebags?_ Clarke sighed.

  
"Alright then, thank you for your time, I'll just-"

  
"Let me get some pants on." Was the curt interruption and then the door closed in her face.  
Yep. Total douchebag.

  
"Thanks!" Clarke yelled at the closed door sarcastically. "I'm next door, when you're, like, ready."  
Turning on her heel, Clarke marched to her door and proceeded to petulantly slam it.  
_At least you got her to come round._


	2. No One Ever Looks Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bludgeons muse over head with antique copper frying pan* WHY WOULD YOU ABANDON ME LIKE THIS.

The spider was gone.  
The. Spider. Was. Gone.  
Oh dear.  
OhdearohdearohdearohdearohdearohDEAROHDEAROHDEAR.  
The spider was GONE and the hot neighbour was coming ROUND to take care of said SPIDER and it was GONE.  
Clarke was screwed.  
One, because what would she tell the aforementioned hot neighbour? Two, WHERE HAD THE SPIDER GONE.

Eyeing the bath suspiciously, Clarke edged forward into the bathroom with all the grace and poise of a small baby cow. Bath? No. Sink? No. Toilet? Not unless the spider had managed to prise open the lid, and therefore was on steroids. (Something that wouldn't surprise Clarke considering its SIZE). Cabinet? No. Conclusion: the spider was GONE.  
But where?  
_Nowhere is safe._

~♤♡◇♧~  
OK,  so maybe the new neighbor was hot, and had the prettiest blue eyes that Lexa had ever seen, but all of that was now irrelevant because Lexa had completely fucked up. Had she been fast asleep when there came the knocking on her door? Yes. Was it her first decent sleep in a month considering how busy she had been with her club? Yes. Did her frosty response to said knock on the door completely ruin any hope of an amicable relationship with her non-nocturnal neighbor? Yes.   
Lexa sighed.  
The reapercussions of this could be disastrous if she didn't fix it, considering her nocturnal sleep schedule and the very thin walls between the two apartments.  
So, head over there, take care of whatever problem she was having, -Lexa snorted slightly at _that_ because it sounded vaguely like Clarke wanted to hook up with her - be pleasant, and go on your way, hoping the neighbor -  _Clarke_ \- doesn't launch a passive aggressive campaign against your sleeping pattern.  
OK.

~♤♡◇♧~  
Hearing the knock on the door, Clarke paused in her nervous perusal of everything in her apartment that could be used to conceal a spider the size of Donald Trumps ego and edged nervously towards the door. Flinging it open quickly just in case the spider chose that moment to reveal itself, Clarke gave hot neighbour a nervous smile.  
"HEY!" _OK, little too manic there, tone it down a little Griffin._

  
"Hello." Was the dry response and Clarke realized that this was going to take all of her considerable charm to even mildly salvage the situation she was now in. With a clearing of her throat, she stuck her hand out for the goddess to shake. "I'm Clarke, your neighbor!"

  
"Yes." Came the mild reply. The hand - _that hand though_ \- stayed firmly at her side.  
_Good god, she's a fucking robot._

  
"Right well, there's a spider in my bath and-"

  
"Wait." Came the gentle interruption and confused, Clarke turned back and was suprised to see Hot Neighbor looking, well, embarrassed?

  
"I'm Lexa," _Lexa_ said with a sigh, holding out a slim hand. "Sorry for being all grumpy, but you woke me up, and I don't do that well without at least 5 hours of sleep. And I'm not a morning person." Dragging her other hand through her hair, Lexa looked bashful and Clarke basically _melted_. Oh no. A beautiful person who was simultaneously an awkward dork. Clarke's level of screwedness skyrocketed. Bouncing forwards, Clarke enthusiastically grasped Lexas outstretched hand. _Wow, this might actually work out._

  
"Come in, come in!" Clarke began, waving Lexa in and leading the way to her bathroom. "So there is a MASSIVE spider which WAS in my bath, but then-"

  
"I'm sorry," came the amused interruption. "But a _spider_ has got you like this?"

  
Shooting an annoyed glance over her shoulder at Lexa who looked like she was finding this situation _far_ too amusing for Clarke's liking Clarke snapped back, "HEY, it's a REALLY BIG spider ok??? And THEN I left it alone in my bathroom, because I was talking to YOU and now it's GONE. And it's a freaking _ninja spider_ because I was only gone for like five minutes, and when I came back IT was GONE and now I'm FREAKING OUT bec-" There was a sudden pause in Clarke's rising tirade.

"Clarke?" Came the anxious query from Lexa, "Are you alright?"

" _Ninja spider_." Clarke repeated to herself in horror.

Glancing back up at Lexa's face, Clarke found that Lexa's eyebrows were judging her.  
"OK, now that we've established that the new neighbour has an entirely overeactive imagination, I'm just going to-"

"Don't move." Clarke hissed out in panic, frantically grabbing Lexa's arm in her terror.

Lexa's eyebrows became even more judging.

"Ninja spider." Clarke repeated with even more emphasis. "Meaning, no one ever looks up."

  
Both girls looked up simultaneously.  
There, hanging from the lampshade, with its legs stretching into the void above their heads, was Shelob.

  
Clarke screamed.

  
Bolting out the door, yanking Lexa with her, Clarke slammed the door with enough force to rattle the paintings on the walls and cause the doorknob in her hand to gain several millimeters outward.

  
"So..." Clarke managed weakly, turning to Lexa, "Can I use your bath?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone for the long wait, but after the episodethatshallnotbenamed, I had a lot of difficulty drumming up enough enthusiasm to write. Hopefully I will keep a more regular updating schedule in the future (but really don't count on that). Let me know of any mistakes, format, prompts etc you want/saw in the comments and come hit me up on Tumblr! @pyromaniacalpeep (And there is a very deliberate typo in that chapter btw)


	3. Epic Battles Fought And Won

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for chasepapergetit, Luminous Moon Goddess and Save_the_fox.  
> All Clarke's POV in this chap, peeps.

OK, so maybe the whole spider situation wasn't that bad. Sure, Clarke could never enter that particular room of her apartment ever again, and her chances of asking the hot neighbor out were now nil, because although they had had a Moment™ in her apartment, Clarke really didn't think that there was any going back from that strangled banshee scream she let out.

But at least she got a bubble bath out of it.

Clarke had no idea what Lexa did for a living but she wanted in because she suddenly found herself in desperate need of all of Lexa's bath products.

It was like stepping into Bed Bath & Beyond.

Candles were everywhere, littering counter tops and the edges of the bath. Bath bombs of every shape, size, scent, and colour were neatly packed underneath the sink, along with at least three types of scented bubble bath, all of which were open and one of which had _glitter_ in.

_Glittery bubble bath._

Honestly this girl was so fucking extra. Clarke was also pretty sure she had a golden glitter bath bomb as well as a rainbow one, and really it would be excessive but - no. It was excessive. But so damn _nice_.

Smelling like citrus and feeling remarkably good for a girl who had recently found herself homeless, Clarke wandered into the living room and internally debated whether or not Lexa would let her stay the night.

Only.

Lexa wasn't there.

Oh no.

The hot neighbour was a serial killer.

Maybe that was jumping to conclusions but really it all made sense: lure the cute girl into the apartment, (Clarke skipped the part where she had asked to use Lexa's bathroom), leave the apartment for an obviously nefarious reason, (Clarke couldn't think of one at the moment but that didn't mean there wasn't one), and return in time to slit the young naive woman's throat in the bathtub. DESPITE the fact that Clarke was already out of the bath. And had been in that bath for approximately an hour leaving plenty of time for Lexa to come back and slit her throat. And Lexa didn't seem like a serial killer. And there were many, MANY plot holes in this theory. (Sort of like a certain show she's currently watching on Netflix. She's only watching for the actors/actresses at this point.)

BUT.

What possible reason could Lexa have for leaving her alone in her apartment?

_Speaking of leaving her alone in the apartment..._

 

A quarter of an hour later, Clarke had gone through the rest of Lexa's bathroom and the related products, rooted through her kitchen, and thoroughly judged the art on the walls. She gathered from her snooping that Lexa really liked coffee, (there was a HUGE expresso machine taking up an entire corner of her kitchen), the obsession with bath products was worse than she imagined, everything was freakishly neat and clean, and Lexa played hockey.

_Dayyyaaaaammmmmnnnnn_

Carefully picking up the hockey bag from its designated place in the hallway closet, Clarke placed it on the table and began emptying its pockets. A green mouth guard, a chipped puck, shin pads, shoulder pads, a helmet, and two sticks; one old and worn whilst the other was unscarred and clean, except for a message. Neatly written in black marker on the side was; _'To my favourite human; may you cause many people pain with this.'_ It was unsigned, and there was no indication that the person behind the message had any romantic inclination towards Lexa, but all the same Clarke felt a sudden flash of irrational jealousy.

 _What the hell?_ Clarke never felt jealous; she figured it as an unproductive emotion and usually dismissed it as she knew that whatever the cause of said jealousy would sort itself out, either in its own accord or under her influence.

Jealousy was extemely unattractive and Clarke was above it.

Still...who wrote the message?

Caught up so much in her own thoughts, she failed to notice the apartment door opening and Lexa stepping through, looking rather disheveled. Catching sight of the table littered with her hockey stuff, an imperious eyebrow lifted, a contrast to the now slightly quirked mouth.

"Clarke."

With a strangled squeak, Clarke grabbed one of the hockey sticks and raised it over her head in preparation for unleashing the righteous wrath of Clarke Griffin upon whoever was attacking her.

Leaning lazily against the doorframe, Lexa eyed her grip and stance with slightly disdainful amusement.

Obviously deciding not to comment on the pillaging of her hockey bag and Clarke's less than warm welcome, Lexa tilted her head in invitation towards Clarke's apartment and wandered off down the hallway.

Clarke, clutching the hockey stick in preparation for getting serial killed, followed warily.

 

Inching through her door, Lexa was again nowhere in sight and Clarke's sense heightened like the lioness she really was. (A baby lioness, but still.) When she heard Lexa's voice calling from the bathroom, she did a quick check of the surrounding rooms just to make sure that, in the time she had been away, Lexa hadn't picked up and accomplice or booby trapped her apartment. Beyond the usual biohazards and malignant clothing waiting to trip you from their place on the floor, she found nothing.

Finally, cautiously stepping though the door in preparation for both the spider and Lexa wearing a 'Silence of the Lambs' type mask, she walked into the bathroom and -

 

"What the hell happened in here?"

 

"An epic battle, fought for your favour, my lady," replied Lexa sagely. "Many sacrifices had to be made."

And, with an awkward clearing of her throat, she pointed to where Clarkes hairspray lay sadly dented on the ground, clear fluid leaking out of it to form a small puddle on the floor.

 

"You killed the spider."

 

"Yes."

 

"Conscripting my hair products into the battle."

 

"Yes."

 

"Of which now none remain unscathed."

 

"...yes."

 

There is a long pause. Then, with a relieved sigh, Clarke steps into Lexa's space and draws her into a hug. "Thank you," comes the gentle words, softly murmured into Lexa's collarbone. Wrapping one arm around Lexa's waist and the other up to rest on the back of her neck, Clarke leans against Lexa's strong frame with a soft hum of happiness. After a few beats where Clarke idly considers that she may have overstepped her boundaries, both literally and figuratively, Lexa hesitantly returns the embrace, resting both hands on Clarke's hips. They stay like that for a long time; Clarke sleepy after her long day, traumatic  experience, and bath, and Lexa exhausted after her battle and being woken up for what is, for her, 3am. Eventually Lexa reluctantly eases back, Clarke gives a soft grumpy sound in response.

"Come on Clarke," comes Lexa's soft voice. "Let's get you to bed."

Sleepily following, Clarke clambers into her bed, not even bothering to change. When Lexa turns to leave however, Clarke reacts. Gently catching Lexa's wrist she mutters something intelligible into her pillow, presumably directed at Lexa. With a soft laugh, Lexa leans closer and manages to catch "...breakfast."

With a soft snort, Lexa replies. "Our schedules don't line up, Clarke. We can't get breakfast together."

She receives a glare from one blue eye in response.

"Tell you what, why don't you and some of your friends come to my club Friday? That way we can talk a little and you can see the reason for my late nights."

A sleepy hum is all she gets. With a gentle sigh, Lexa decides to leave her cellphone number and the address of her club on a note for Clarke. She can only hope that the epic battle she fought will be enough to sway her to come to the club; if only so she can see her blue eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this gives some of you a little reprieve from all the shit that's going on atm.

**Author's Note:**

> CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is greatly appreciated, as this is my first fic! Also, please point out any faults in grammar, punctuation, spelling, or general nastiness.


End file.
